


The Longest Time-out

by Lusethxii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusethxii/pseuds/Lusethxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Oikawa only meets Iwaizumi after high school, where his injury and time off the court is permanent. In their time together as room mates, they're forced to recognise that they can't always hold on to the things that they want.</p><p>Basically the angsty injury fic that nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Longest Time-out

**Author's Note:**

> I started on this fic as a vent fic, so it can be quite choppy. I just wanted Oikawa to suffer..haha. Also, I wanted to write a fic where injuries just didn't magically heal. This fic should make everyone thankful for canon.

Within three weeks of living with his room mate, these are the few things Iwaizumi Hajime knows, or rather, doesn't know about Oikawa Tooru.

First, he still doesn't know his major. Whenever Iwaizumi brings it up, Oikawa smiles and replies with something absurd, like "Alien studies, Iwa-chan. I study extraterrestrial life." He knows it's bullshit, but he can never get a proper answer out of the other man. He doesn't even know if Oikawa goes to classes, or if he even is a college student like Iwaizumi.

Second, Oikawa walks with a limp. It's small and unnoticeable at first, but he clearly favours his right leg when he walks. When they are outside, the limp seems barely there, but Iwaizumi thinks he's just really good at hiding it. But when it rains or gets cold, sometimes Iwaizumi sees Oikawa just sitting in his bed and staring down, like he's concentrating really hard thinking about something, or maybe to not think about something.

Third, Oikawa despises sports channels. Iwaizumi found this out when he had been lazing on the couch, absentmindedly watching reruns of the Olympic events that year. He heard the loud stomping of the brunette's feet before a hand snatched up the remote and switched the channel. Iwaizumi had looked up, bewildered. He didn't mind the channel change, he just wondered why Oikawa was so upset about it. Covering his face in a smile quickly, Oikawa said, "let's watch something else instead, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi's room mate was an enigma, though more of a dumbass, he thinks. Oikawa made up a dumb nickname for Iwaizumi within the first day they had met and Iwaizumi protested for three days before relenting and letting his obnoxious room mate use it. There were many things Oikawa did that annoyed Iwaizumi, such as bouncing on the couch while he was studying  _on_ it, stealing snacks from Iwaizumi and leaving chores half-done. Sometimes though, Oikawa also did uncharacteristically thoughtful things, like cooking dinner when Iwaizumi is too busy studying or pulling a blanket around him when he falls asleep on the couch. Iwaizumi appreciates the moments where Oikawa actually does something nice, but it's usually quickly erased as he opens his mouth

"Iwa-chan! When you're done with your exams let's have a movie marathon!"

Iwaizumi groans. He hardly has the patience to sit through more than one movie and he knows Oikawa's taste in movies can pretty much be summed up as terrible. And Oikawa, the movie nerd he claims to be, would never let Iwaizumi fall asleep and would eat way  _more_ than his portion of snacks, pissing Hajime off terribly.

Another thing that Oikawa does is writing. He always seemed to have his tattered, earth-coloured notebook with him that he would pull out randomly to scribble on it. Sometimes he stares at Iwaizumi and scribbles in it.

"Oi, what did you write?" Iwaizumi shoots.

"Nothing, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa chimes and he holds the notebook away and out of reach.

Oikawa is tall, Iwaizumi notes. Height is (annoyingly) almost always an advantage, like when holding things out of reach, jumping to reach something, jumping for volleyball-

He lets his thoughts stop there. He stops fighting for the notebook and gives an annoyed huff.

"Do whatever you want."

\---

In the second semester of college Iwaizumi is asked to try out for the volleyball team when someone learns he used to play in high school. Without a second thought, he agrees, and makes it into the team. He starts bringing jerseys home and throwing them into the wash every other day after practice. With even more activities, Iwaizumi barely has time to do the laundry but his clothes are always washed and ready before the next practice.

On a rainy Saturday afternoon, Iwaizumi is catching up on homework while Oikawa lazes on the couch beside him. Iwaizumi notices that he has both his notebook and laptop out, and appears to alternate his attention between them.

"So what are you writing?" he piques. He doesn't expect an answer, and he'd never asked before because he had never expected Oikawa to answer him.

"A story."

"What's it about?" Iwaizumi dares to prompt. He studies Oikawa from the corner of his eye; watching the way the brunette sits hunched with a laptop and notebook balanced in his lap, fingers drumming the surface, seeming to consider his words.

"If I say it's about me...would you think I'm a narcissist?" Oikawa says softly, finally turning to meet Iwaizumi's eyes.

It's strange, he thinks. There's a smile on Oikawa's lips but it doesn't reach his eyes, and the boy has this uncertainty about him, like he's just revealed a huge secret.

"You've always been a narcissist, idiot." Iwaizumi answers curtly.

Oikawa turns back to his laptop and continues typing. Iwaizumi never gets to read what he writes and doesn't understand what Oikawa had meant.

As Iwaizumi gets busier with school, he sees Oikawa less and less. Sometimes, he wonders what Oikawa is doing. He wonders if he is sitting with his laptop and notebook typing away, watching more of his terrible movies or maybe cooking dinner for himself, since Iwaizumi already told him he won't be back for dinner. On rainy days Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa sits in his bed and thinks (or doesn't think) about stuff, if his limp is bad and he has to use the corners of their furniture for support, and why he hates the sports channels but still washes Iwaizumi's jerseys.

\---

One night Iwaizumi comes home from practice and his legs throb. He runs a hot shower, hoping it will ease the pain but it doesn't, and he groans as he drags himself across the apartment for a glass of water.

Oikawa peeks out from his room.

"Iwa-chan? What happened?" he starts to approach Iwaizumi.

"I think I worked a little too hard at practice today... Don't worry it'll be fine after I sleep it off-"

"Sit down," Oikawa injects. His voice is firm but his hand is gentle when it guides Iwaizumi to the couch, where he instinctively takes a seat.

Oikawa asks where the pain is and presses an ice pack against it and he hisses from the cold. Eventually, Iwaizumi relaxes as he gets used to it, and Oikawa massages his sore muscles to relieve the pain.

"Thanks," Iwaizumi mutters. Oikawa hums in reply. After a few more moments of silence, Iwaizumi finds the slightest bit of courage to ask

"Oikawa, did you get injured before?"

His hands stop. Oikawa sits back and withdraws his hands, placing them on his own lap instead.

"Yea, I did." He answers softly.

It reminds Iwaizumi of the time Oikawa told him he was writing about himself.

"From...?" Iwaizumi prompts, afraid he is crossing a line he shouldn't, and that any time now Oikawa would shut him out, never revealing the real answer to him.

"Volleyball practice. I overworked." His voice is still soft and his head is down so Iwaizumi can't see his eyes.

"Oh," Iwaizumi breaths. From that he can easily put two and two together. He had gotten himself injured and probably signed off sports and that was why Oikawa hated sports channels. He supposes Oikawa probably hates him too; for joining the college volleyball team, carelessly throwing his jerseys in the laundry that Oikawa had to wash and now sitting on the couch because he very nearly, overworked himself too. Oikawa must hate him a lot.

Yet there was nothing hostile about the way Oikawa had rubbed the sore muscles on his calves, pressed an ice pack against where it swelled and looked up to see if Iwaizumi was feeling better. There was nothing hostile about the way he washed all of their laundry, including the sports jerseys, and left them folded neatly on his bed when he needed them again. Oikawa wasn't angry. He was just sad.

Iwaizumi wonders whether he really spends most of his time in the apartment, typing away on his laptop - the story that Oikawa said was about himself. He wonders what Oikawa had written and what he was intending to do with that.

Oikawa never elaborated on it. All Iwaizumi knows was that Oikawa had injured his right knee from volleyball in high school. He had played setter. He didn't need to ask to know that it wasn't something that would just get better and go away. Volleyball wasn't something you could half-ass. Iwaizumi was aware of that. And Oikawa was too well aware of that.

\---

Over summer they have a game with another college. Iwaizumi had invited his parents, but it clashed with a wedding they had to attend. So instead, he asks Oikawa.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realises how insensitive they were and wishes he could stuff them back.

"You're asking me to go to your game?" Oikawa raises an eyebrow. Iwaizumi's mouth goes dry. He should've just asked someone else - anyone else. Why, of all people, did he ask Oikawa? But, Iwaizumi knew. He could have asked any other friend but knowing it was summer, many of them wouldn't be able to make it. He just wanted someone to go. Oikawa rarely seemed to leave the house anyway. Something about his first game made him uneasy. He wanted someone in the stands that he knew - someone he invited - to watch him play. He didn't even care if he could hear them cheer.

It was a stupid, shallow and selfish reason.

"I-I'm sorry," Iwaizumi splutters, withdrawing his hand and the ticket.

Oikawa surprises him by grabbing his wrist, stopping him from pulling away. He takes the ticket with his other hand.

"You better win," he says.

They do win. Just barely though; there were many moments where Iwaizumi thought they weren't going to be able to get that ball, but even then, he dived for it like there was nothing else he could do. He thinks that all the balls he saved are chances that he'd saved for someone else. After the game the team praises him for his receives, saying they might have lost if he didn't get that ball up; if he didn't give them that one more chance to score. He wistfully thinks about how if he pulls enough saves, maybe the chances will be enough to put a certain someone back on the court.

He's thinking too much, again.

He's surprised Oikawa celebrates with him. The boy had bought a bottle of champagne, the type that was bright blue and 5%, seemingly bought more as an idea of a celebratory drink than to actually drink. Iwaizumi doesn't say that he hates champagne but just drinks it with Oikawa, thinking and thinking how the blue matches him and if his jersey had been blue, because it goes so well with him. Iwaizumi thinks so much about that stupid blue colour, the browns of Oikawa's eyes and the slight flush on his pale skin that he forget that he hates champagne and finishes it.

Iwaizumi remembers the sound of Oikawa's laughter - the way it bubbles slowly up his throat, the way his shoulders shake and the way his eyes crinkle as a chuckle escapes. He doesn't remember what makes him laugh though.

He remembers what makes him cry.

"I hate you so much, Iwa-chan," Oikawa starts. He tears his eyes away from the floor and turns to face Iwaizumi. Tears are running from the corners of his eyes. "I'm so jealous of you."

All Iwaizumi wants to do is to wipe his tears away. But instead he lets his arms fall to his side as he shuffles uncomfortably on the couch.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. He shouldn't have invited Oikawa to his game. Even though he had wanted some form of moral support for his first college game, he really couldn't be more insensitive.

"You can play volleyball; you can run, you can jump, you can spike-" Oikawa seethes, his eyes wide. "But me? Somedays I can't even walk!"

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa cautiously as he pulls his knees up against his chest and curls up into himself. He hates to describe what he feels as pity, but it is, and he knows someone as stubborn as Oikawa won't take well to sympathy.

After a few beats of strained silence, Oikawa says in a soft voice,

"Sorry for yelling at you, Iwa-chan."

"You can yell at me as much as you like if it makes you feel better," Iwaizumi responds gently. He doesn't take his eyes off the other man, watching him carefully.

"If I could go back to the past," Oikawa begins, keeping his gaze down. Iwaizumi remains silent, and so Tooru continues. "I would warn my past self against overworking themself. But I know...I'd be too stubborn to listen even if I did that."

"If so then I'd go and beat the past you up until they stop overworking themself," Iwaizumi retorts. Oikawa tears his eyes away from his feet to meet Iwaizumi's. His eyes are red and swimming with tears, but burning indignantly.

"Iwa-chan, if you beat me up how am I going to play volleyball? You're such a brute," Oikawa replies, his lips curving up slightly.

"I'd just make your nose bleed or something," Iwaizumi huffs. "You stubborn idiot."

Oikawa laughs, throwing his head back as airy chuckles escape. Then, as suddenly as he had started laughing, his face crumbles again and he presses his hands against them. He breathes deeply.

"I wish you were there to stop me," he sighs, slipping off the couch and retreating to his room for the night.

\---

Oikawa's injury had started as an occasional pain. Some days, after a particularly grueling session of practice, his legs would throb in pain. No matter how much his knees burned, he never gave much thought to it because he could always sleep it off. It would be fine after some rest. What was more important to him was getting those tosses, receives and serves right. The next tournament was just around the corner. He still needed to perfect his jump serve.

Then one day his knee decided it had enough. Even though there was still a million things Oikawa wanted and needed to do, it gave up on him. That day Oikawa took twice as long walking back home.

He couldn't sleep it off.

In fact, he could hardly fall asleep at all. Despite how exhausted he was, the pain kept him from falling asleep.

After that things quickly went downhill. His knees started to hurt after just a few jump serves, and he had to take more and more time-outs in between practice. Soon after, they even started hurting when he was resting. Oikawa went to a doctor and started on physiotherapy, but they couldn't be certain how long he would take to recover. The best, they said, was for Oikawa to take a break.

Unfortunately, Oikawa Tooru didn't do well with breaks.

Even when he had his breaks, volleyball never left his head. He would be thinking about what he was going to practice next once the pain subsided. That jump serve still needed practising. Maybe if he angled his body more he could get more force into it. Or maybe he should work on control. Other players ran around the court with their own practices while he quivered with the itch to play.

In the first match of his final tournament, Oikawa was benched by the second set. Even with the painkillers and kneeguard, the pain in his knee found a way to be felt and he started screwing up his jump serves. Finally, after his third miss, the coach pulled him out. Lying through his teeth about the pain, Oikawa begged to be let back in as a pinch server - anything. But the coach denied, saying his jump serves had become too risky and he might not be able to follow up on receives. What he needed was rest - to recover for the next game.

He rested as much as he could. He followed through with the physical therapy diligently. Just thinking of making it in time for the next game, or the one after that.

Oikawa didn't play much in his final tournament. He got subbed in sometimes, but quickly pulled out as soon as the pain caught up to him. In the end, their team lost in the quarter finals.

"Tooru, you should focus on your studies more."

Oikawa looked up at his mother. It was the week after the tournament and he'd had plenty of time to wallow in it, but it seemed that his mother was ready to push him in another direction.

"Since you're done with volleyball now."

No.

_No._

He wasn't even anywhere near being done with volleyball. There was still that toss he hadn't tried. That jump serve he needed to perfect. And all those matches he wanted to win, all those teams he wanted to beat. His passion for the sport was in no way near to dying off. He wanted to keep playing it. He wanted to get better at it. He wanted it. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so bad.

"Yea," he answered with disinterest.

Oikawa spent the rest of his school year studying and managed to pull his mediocre grades up by a fair bit. It pleased his parents, then they asked him where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do.

\---

"I'm taking a gap year," Oikawa says as he slams his laptop shut.

Iwaizumi looks up from his school work, surprised.

"That's why you don't see me going to classes," he fills. Iwaizumi blinks and just mutters 'oh'.

Oikawa needed to get away from volleyball. When he chances upon sports programmes, he always feels bitter and switches them immediately. Sports magazines have the same effect. When Iwaizumi joined the volleyball club, Oikawa wanted to stay the hell away from him - which, in hindsight, would've been pretty hard. There was something different. Iwaizumi wasn't someone playing a televised match or a face in a sports magazine. He felt strangely down-to-earth.

When Oikawa washes Iwaizumi's jerseys, he recognises that it isn't his jersey (the colour was completely different). He feels a strange distance as he folds someone else's jersey to lay neatly on their bed so they can wear it to practice the next day. During Iwaizumi's first match, Oikawa had at first felt restless, itching to play. After some time, however, he settles into his spot in the stands and begins to understand the distinction between the court and the spectators. He watches the rest of the game, cheering for Iwaizumi's team and feeling a certain detachment when he allows the fate of the game to go through without his participation.

Oikawa also found the subject of his story veering off.

\---

It was one of the rare days where Iwaizumi returned home before dinner. Usually, Oikawa would cook dinner if Iwaizumi told him he would be back in time for it. However, today Oikawa is curled on the sofa, blanket wrapped around his legs with a movie playing on the television. Iwaizumi recognises it as a movie they'd seen before and not even one that Oikawa particularly liked. There is just something odd about the whole scenario that unnerves Hajime. Oikawa didn't get up to greet Iwaizumi - he didn't even turn his head - just told him to order delivery for dinner from where he was.

Iwaizumi walks towards Oikawa, until he is standing right behind the couch.

"Oi, you okay?" he asks.

He counts a beat of silence before Oikawa answers him.

"I'm fine, the movie is great. Help me order pepperoni pizza, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi clearly remembers Oikawa complaining about this movie, from the cliche plot to the lacklustre CG effects. He knows that pressing for an answer would be counter-productive. So he turns and strolls into the kitchen and leans against the counter as he presses his phone to his ear. Their apartment is small, the kitchen being a little extension of the living room. It feels like they're in different rooms, but Iwaizumi can still see Oikawa.

"Hey they don't have pepperoni, is seafood fine?" Iwaizumi calls out.

"No, I want mushroom," Oikawa replies, still without turning his head.

Iwaizumi takes a breath.

"So seafood is fine right?" He says.

This time Oikawa turns around.

"Iwa-chan, I said mushroom!"

"Alright, seafood," Iwaizumi repeats, ignoring Oikawa. From the corner of his eye where he is carefully watching Oikawa, he sees the other man try to rise from his seat. Oikawa pulls the blanket off, swinging his feet over the ledge. He leans his weight on his left foot first and then his right-

Iwaizumi crosses the distance to the couch in a few quick strides.

Oikawa feels an arm around his waist instead of the sharp pain he had been bracing himself for. He whips his head around to look at Iwaizumi.

"Idiot, you've been in pain haven't you?" Iwaizumi scolds.

Suddenly, Oikawa becomes acutely aware that he's blinking back tears.

"Yea..." he answers slowly. It's one of the days where he feels the pain the worst. Resigning to it, Oikawa had settled on the couch with a blanket and marathoned movies for the past five hours while Iwaizumi was in school.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Iwaizumi huffs, but he softens and pulls Oikawa back onto the couch with him. "Is there anything that makes it better?"

Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi's arms around his waist and leans into his back. He feels Iwaizumi tense up for a moment before relaxing into it.

"...Okay." he sighs, his breath warm against Oikawa's shoulder.

Oikawa hadn't thought much of Iwaizumi before. He was just a college student; someone around his age and someone to split the rent with. Oikawa hadn't thought of him as anything more. Iwaizumi had terrible manners and an uncouth mouth that scolded Oikawa more often than not. He spoke with a loud and stern voice, couldn't appreciate B-grade movies, studied too seriously, always came home late and forgot to wash his own jerseys. But he knew that within the sentences punctuated with insults, there was definitely truth. More than the fake smiles Oikawa flashed on his bad days. Iwaizumi had a damned intuition to see past them and Oikawa hated how often he was found out. He was always used to faking it, but he also wanted someone to just _know._

He was tired.

The tens of thousands of words he had been writing since spring, which he had tried to use to illustrate himself started to sound like dying. That was why he recently changed the subject to something he actually liked. Iwaizumi Hajime, who scolded more than actually complimented and who played the sport Oikawa wanted to get away from was a  _really_ ironic person to be admiring.

"Did you really get seafood pizza?" Oikawa peers up.

"I didn't even make the call," Iwaizumi admits.

"You're terrible," Oikawa huffs.

\---

As the end of the year gets closer, Iwaizumi's volleyball club goes on a break. The feeling of being able to return home early again is liberating, as much as he enjoys practice. Iwaizumi also notices that Oikawa seems busier - he goes out more often and is sometimes on the phone when he comes home. On one such occasion, Iwaizumi decides to sate his curiosity.

"Who was that?" Iwaizumi asks as he sets his bag on the floor and shrugs out of his coat.

"Hmm?" Oikawa turns around, a small smile gracing his lips. "That was my mum."

"Oh," Iwaizumi hums as he reaches in his bag for his work. He supposes Oikawa was just keeping in touch with his parents, which is good.

"Iwa-chan... Do you think you can find a new room mate by next year?" Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi snaps up from his bag.

"...What?" His mouth feels dry.

"I might not be staying here anymore," Oikawa continues slowly. He meets Iwaizumi's eyes with a grimace. "I think I'd be going to college next year - not the same one you're going to, unfortunately."

"Why not..?" He hears himself mutter. Hajime knows it's selfish to want Oikawa to go to the same college as him, to continue staying with him in the same apartment and to keep going to his games. Hajime should know that Oikawa was taking a gap year - a break to get himself together, to reset his direction again. He had met Oikawa in that limbo, between loss and moving forward. Oikawa had come from somewhere he wasn't a part of, and was going to go where he can't follow.

"Well, your college doesn't have astronomy," Oikawa shrugged. "Guess I'm doing alien studies after all."

"Good luck with that," Iwaizumi forces a smile.

Oikawa really did move out. A few weeks after new years, his things are being packed into boxes (with Iwaizumi's help) so they could be moved.

"Since I'm feeling generous, I'd let you keep one of my DVDs. Which one do you want?" Oikawa asks as they lay his DVD collection over the living room floor.

"...This one." Iwaizumi picks one out. It's one of Oikawa's favourites, that he had been forced to watch with him multiple times, until it also began to grow on him.

"What? But this one's my favourite!" Oikawa whines when he peers over at the title.

"You said  _any_." Iwaizumi retorts. Oikawa slumps his shoulders in defeat.

"Fine," he grumbles, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the sofa. Since the weather has been getting colder, Oikawa has been wearing more and more sweaters. The one he's wearing now is light brown and it goes really well with his hair and eyes. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, is in an old hoodie that he's definitely been wearing for too many days.

He leans back against the sofa as well, throwing his head up to look at the ceiling. They had sat side-by-side many times while sharing this apartment, mostly in silence, like now. But somehow, the thought that he might not experience Oikawa's company like this again for a long time made his heart feel a little heavier. The apartment was going to be different without Oikawa. Iwaizumi returns his attention to the man beside him, regarding him with a pensive look. He had recognised a long time ago that Oikawa was nothing short of attractive - he had pretty features that would made Iwaizumi jealous if he wasn't so glad he got to see them every day. He had never thought to tell Oikawa, thinking that he definitely gets told how pretty he is all the time anyway.

But Iwaizumi had been assuming many things about Oikawa ever since they met. He had thought Oikawa was confident from the way he spoke, only to realise he crumbles out of sight. He sighs, hating how sentimental he was feeling.

"You're annoyingly pretty," he ends up saying.

"What? Iwa-chan, can't you even give a compliment properly?" Oikawa gasps, but the slightest tinge of pink rises in his cheeks.

"Oi, tell me when you settle down in your school," Iwaizumi continues, ignoring Oikawa. "And I'll see if I can find time to visit."

"Aww, I haven't even left yet and you're already saying you'd miss me? Iwa-chan you're so cute-"

 _"S-Shittykawa!"_ Iwaizumi splutters, face flushing red as he throws a punch at Oikawa's arm.

"Ow! Owww! I take it back! Iwa-chan is absolutely uncute, he's a _brute_!" Oikawa wails as incessant hits land on his arms.

"Only your right knee is hurt right? So I can punch you anywhere else, right?" Iwaizumi grins.

"Oh my god - no, Iwa-chan, not the face!" Oikawa exclaims in horror as Iwaizumi tackles him.

After a few short-lived attempts at fighting back, Oikawa declares that he has given up and Iwaizumi grins in triumph.

"That was stupid..." Oikawa whines. "Anyway, I know I'd miss you too."

"Oh." Iwaizumi blinks in surprise. Then Oikawa continues to surprise him more when he wraps his arms around him and pulls him down into a hug.

"Thanks for looking after me," he says, pressing his face into Iwaizumi's shoulder.

"...Thanks for looking after me too," Iwaizumi replies, fitting his arms around Oikawa's back.

\---

The days after Oikawa moves away, Iwaizumi struggles to get used to it. Some days he comes home to realise that dinner hasn't been made yet and the laundry still isn't done. The television is mostly turned off and instead of Oikawa's overflowing collection of DVDs, there is only a meagre selection on the shelf. He hates to admit it, but he misses the brunette's cheerful voice chiming his nickname.

A letter arrives on the second week. It's addressed to him. When he opens it, he realises that it's from Oikawa.

_Hi Iwa-chan!~_

_How are you? Starting to miss me? By the way, remember the thing I kept writing? I said I wrote about myself, but actually...I wrote a little about you too._

Iwaizumi finds a sheet of printed text attached. It describes his first game in college, where Oikawa had watched from the stands. He complimented his receives and spikes.

_I wish there was a time we could played volleyball together on the same court, hopefully on the same side of the net. I could teach you how to improve your crappy jump serves and you can be there to beat me up so I don't overwork. Please don't ruin my face though, just because you're jealous that I'm pretty!_

Iwaizumi cracks a smile. He had been thinking the same thing.

_I'm glad I met you, even though you are really mean and should try being nicer to me. I was really bitter about not being able to play volleyball anymore. It's really hard to give up on something that I love so much. But well at least I'm not giving up on everything that I love! Invite me to your other games, I'd go if I can make it~_

Iwaizumi folds up the letter, stuffing it back into its envelope. He thinks about practice starting up again as their next game draws closer, already missing the sting from a good spike and the sound of the ball slamming onto the other side of the court. He also indulges himself in imagining more - imagining Oikawa playing on his team, running around the court without a single ounce of pain, jumping and setting a toss for Iwaizumi, who spikes it and scores them the winning point.


End file.
